


There Was A Thing

by ajay_lotte



Series: The Yellow Car Initiative [2]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Matt Murdock, Espionage, Everything is good, Gen, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Secret Identity, Spies & Secret Agents, Timeline What Timeline, brett mahoney is so done, kind of, yellow car game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajay_lotte/pseuds/ajay_lotte
Summary: In which Matt doesn't have Brett's number, tries his hand at espionage, and breaks into the Avengers facility unit with the help of an overenthusiastic teen.
Relationships: Brett Mahoney & Matt Murdock, Clint Barton & Matt Murdock, Clint Barton & Matt Murdock & Natasha Romanov
Series: The Yellow Car Initiative [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883668
Comments: 8
Kudos: 292





	There Was A Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this wasn't my original plan for part 2 (can be read as a stand alone), but Brett Mahoney vibes so here's this catastrophe of an evening out.  
> Marvel owns all these characters and stuff, this is just a fanfiction because I suck, I'm bored, and think Clint is awesome and can be a total disaster sometimes  
> Warnings: some swearing I think? Can't remember but it's probably there  
> Happy reading, Lotte :)

“Hey, Matt?” Karen asks, putting the person on the phone on hold for a second. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” He opens his office door and leans against the frame. “Ah, you’re on the phone. What is it?” Matt had been focusing on the case, reading and rereading sections to such an extent that all he could sense were the little raised dots on the page.

“It’s Claire. You left your phone at home; Clint’s trying to get hold of you.” Karen’s voice raises significantly on ‘Clint’, but Matt’s too busy wondering what could be so important the guy is trying to get hold of him through everyone else. “Can you take it, or shall I ask him to ring back?”

“No, I can take it.” He walks over to her desk and she passes him her mobile. “Clint.”

“Red, you have no idea how many people I have gone through to get someone who knows you.” The archer sighs dramatically into the phone.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a club.”

“What?”

“A club of people who know my identity. They meet for drinks on Saturdays, because I’m busy on Saturdays.” That’s not entirely true- he just alternates between getting drunk with Jessica and Thor each week. “It should be easy to find someone relatively useful.”

“Do I get an invite?”

“You don’t know who I am.” That brings him onto the topic of call. “What do you want Clint?” He growls into the phone and hears Karen’s heart rate spike.

He mouths ‘sorry’ in her general direction. She nods.

There’s a pause while Clint draws in a big breath of air. “Want to try your hand at espionage work? Nat and I need a third player, someone in the party, and you’re a pro at interrogations. Obviously, you don’t need to tell us who you are, and we won’t look for you… but we will be on comms with you the whole time.” Matt pauses to think about this. “Y’know, if you became an Avenger this would be a whole lot easier.”

“No thank you.”

“The offer stands.”

“So you’ve said.” Repeatedly. “Why can’t anyone else do this?”

“Have you seen our team?!” Matt considers this and based on the fact that they’re all celebrities and like to do things the flashy way, he understands why Clint and Nat can’t do spy work with the others, and why it’s hard for them to do it themselves. “I’ve been to your apartment and left a case file and an earpiece on your counter.”

“You have Claire’s key to my apartment.” Matt remembers and makes a mental note to chase down the missing keys. Clint gulps. “Where is the place?”

“Who is Matt talking to?” Foggy whispers, coming into the foyer of their office.

“Clint.” Karen answers.

“Brooklyn.” Clint replies.

“Who’s Clint?” Foggy whispers and Karen shrugs. Matt puts a hand to his ear to focus on Clint.

“But it’s a job effecting the Kitchen. Some corrupt cops, FBI, that sort of thing. You’ve dealt with it before, right?”

Matt hums. “I have, but you haven’t. What’s your goal here, Clint?”

“Will you do it? The party you need to go to is tomorrow evening at nine.”

Matt figures he’s bored. “Sure.”

“Great. The money will get transferred to your Avengers account.”

“You don’t need to…” Clint hangs up. “Dumbass.” Matt can’t see their faces, but his friends’ hearts suggest they’re shocked. “Thanks Karen. Foggy, can I have Brett’s number?”

Foggy blinks. He then thinks about the question. “You still don’t have that?!” He exclaims, taking out his phone.

“There was a thing.” Matt gestures vaguely. Foggy frowns slightly but writes the number down anyways, scratching it into the paper.

That evening, Matt sits at the kitchen bar with a pot of coffee and curses Clint’s special Stark glossy paper.

So, like any reasonable person, he dresses up in black pyjamas and parkours his way over to Upstate New York. Simultaneously ringing Brett Mahoney.

“Hello?”

“Mahoney, hey. It’s Matt Murdock. I got your number from Foggy.” He wonders loosely if that was too informal for someone you’re jokingly/not-jokingly on second names with. But he has Marci’s number and they’re arch nemeses so it’s fine. Probably.

“Murdock? I thought I had your number.”

“Ah, there was a thing.” A thing involving Wade and Frank. He doesn’t voice that thought, though.

Brett inhales loudly, but then just lets out a deep sigh. “You know what; I don’t want to know. What can I do for you?” He asks, just as Matt tucks into a roll from a stupidly long roof hop and promptly says:

“Ow.”

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just scraped my arm on some glass.” He stands on the random lone shard, crushing it beneath his foot before continuing his run. “I’ve been invited to a party in Brooklyn tomorrow night, and I’m almost certain it has something to do with the precinct.”

“You’re going to that? Seriously?” Matt beams. “And to think things were finally going up in my life.”

“I take it that means you’re going?”

“I’m now reconsidering, but yeah.”

“Would you be able to email me the information?”

“Wait- what did you mean, almost certain?”

Matt’s brain stops for a second, then considers a truth will work. “The invitation was sent in printed text, so I’m kind of having a hard time- yellow car- uh, reading it.” People laughing and playing the game down below attract his attention, and with Brett on the other end of the line, there’s nobody here to hit him back if he gets it wrong. “Clint didn’t have time to read the whole thing.”

“Who’s Clint?” Matt opens his mouth to answer. “Don’t want to know Murdock, I don’t know what it is, but I’m sure there’s something going on with you.” Matt promptly shuts his mouth again. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow from your apartment building, half eight. We’ll be arriving on time- fashionably late if it comes to it.” Brett says- authoritarian in nature. Instead of a reply however there’s a thud. Then the sound of something breaking.

“Ow.”

“Murdock?”

“Sorry, I am really off my game tonight. There was a… you know what, it’s embarrassing.” Matt keeps quiet about the broken washing line he tripped over, ruining his landing. He’s relaxed into the streets too much, he thinks. “That would be great, ugh stupid wire, thank you Brett.”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m about to be chased by…” Matt trails off. “Sorry, I forgot who I was speaking too for a minute. That’s more of a Scott kind of phone call. You don’t know Scott either. He’s… you don’t want to know. Sorry, this is very out of line. I’m about to break into my friend’s place so I’m a bit excited.”

“Should you be confessing to crimes to an officer?”

“I have permission to be here. Kind of. It’s complicated. Well, I’m here now. So, I’m gonna…”

“Tomorrow at eight thirty.”

“Thank you, Brett; you’re a lifesaver.” Matt pockets his phone, hears a beep in which he forgot to hang up, again, and stands on a building just close enough to the Avengers facility to plan a route in without triggering the sensors. He needs someone on the inside. “Call Peter.”

“Hey Double D, wassup? Are you ringing about a team up, because I definitely fancy busting a drug ring or something? There’s only so much pickpockets I can stop in a night, y’know?”

“I’m trying to break into the Avenger’s facility. Any advice?”

“I thought you were an Avenger.”

Matt groans. “No. Peter, I need help breaking in. You have Stark’s stuff. Can’t you just hack in and disable FRIDAY for a couple of moments, until I can talk to her on the inside.”

Peter hums. “I can’t, but Ned’s my tech guy. Can I call him?” Peter doesn’t wait for an answer, and suddenly Matt’s in a three-way call with Peter and his friend. “Hey, Ned.”

“Hey Peter, and random number. Do I know you?”

“Ned, don’t freak out… but remember I told you I met Daredevil.”

“Holy shit!” Peter groans. Matt bites his tongue at the blasphemy. “Oh my god, Daredevil, it is an honour to be talking to you.”

“Hey, uh, Ned? I need help breaking into the Avengers unit. Can you help?” Matt’s uncertain of how to speak to Ned too. He considers his phone and considers chucking it off the building. He’s sure it’ll break with the drop.

“Shit. Daredevil knows my name. Peter, what is your life?”

“Uhhh.” Peter’s at a loss for words. He had some street cred only two minutes ago. Ned just lost any cool points he’d gained in the past.

Ned suddenly remembers the question. “Ok, I can get you in easy. We pranked Mr Stark a couple of weeks ago, made a hold system to screw with him. He’ll trace it back to us after, but it’ll get you in unnoticed for about five minutes.”

“If you need longer than five, you’ll have to bribe FRIDAY. It’s actually easy- the AI loves jobs. Hard ones. I think she gets… bored? I’m not quite sure. Have you spoken to FRIDAY before?”

“Yes.” Matt sees a window in an office on a top-level floor slightly open. He cocks his head to the side. No heartbeat in that room. The Devil grins. “Ok, Ned. Can you get me in now?”

“Yeah, one sec.” Matt waits and waits and then: “go!”

Matt pockets his phone and takes out his billy clubs. He hooks one through the window and swings across, resting his feet on the side of the building. He climbs up, pushes the window more open and climbs through. “Friday?”

“Red, good evening, or night, if you’d rather.” Matt thinks about it briefly but shakes his head. Technicalities don’t matter right now. “It appears that you are breaking in. I assume you would like me to keep your presence here from the other Avengers.”

“You’d do that?” He leans against the wall.

“Of course, you are welcome here at any time, as the Avengers have previously offered.”

“You’re saying I could’ve just walked through the front door.”

“Yes.” Guilt floods Matt. Peter’s going to get in trouble for no reason. It’s good practice for tomorrow, he decides, as a weak argument. “Can I be of any assistance?”

“What are your protocols on vigilante identities?”

“If you reveal yours to me, I am under your strict personal orders of when I can give that information to anyone else. It will not be stored on any accessible database to any government or company asides from the Avengers. However, that will only be able to be accessed by me at any time with your permission on top of sir’s passwords.” Matt nods. He’ll take those odds.

Only because he likes Friday, because Friday is like him. She sees like him: in a manner of speaking. The first time they met, when Matt was hiding from being dragged into a debriefing meeting, Friday had explained to Matt how she sees in codes, using them to comprehend what’s in front of her. It’s like his senses. Though Matt never told her that, he spent hours here, talking to the AI and revelling in the comforting sense of her being throughout the entirety of the complex. In a contradictory way, her lack of heart humanises her to Matt. She’s not a puzzle- an enemy- to understand, she’s just… like him.

“I’m Matthew Murdock.” He takes off his mask. “Attorney at law.” He shuts the door to the office and walks over to the desk, pulling his feet up onto the chair and sitting cross-legged, like he’s about to start meditating.

“With this new information, how would you like me to address you?”

“Daredevil with the others, Red like you do now.”

“I have filed that information away under your name. I am required to provide any help you may need under the ADA laws, but your previous visits suggest you may not need a guide in the same sense that my programming offers.”

“No.”

“Are you able to see, Red?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He says with a smirk, and there’s a buzz of electricity that Friday gives in a way of recognition of humour. Matt wonders if Stark intended to make his AI laugh. “But no, I cannot see, and that’s the cause for my visit. Tomorrow I am going on a job as Matt Murdock with Clint and Nat, but I am unable to read the case file.”

“Assuming it’s classified, it would be unwise for you to scan it onto your own computer.” Matt hums. “And if there is information on computers you need access to, that would be a problem too, I assume.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” He admits. “I came for a Braille print out, but…”

“Red, if you don’t mind me interrupting, it is under my programming to aid anybody in the tower to the best of my abilities. I am able to help you break into sir’s lab where you can steal a pair of his glasses. I am in each pair and will be able to read the information on any written paper or screen to you, as well as help guide you in any other way if you find it helpful.” Matt’s heart does a thing. Helpful. Not necessary. He beams.

“And Tony won’t mind?”

“Based on images on Google, it appears your glasses are circular. A missing pair will cause Mr Stark to make new ones, which I can inspire him to create pairs like yours.” Matt’s smile widens. “Mr Stark’s lab is in the basement and currently unoccupied. He is currently in the common room with Captain Rogers and Mr Barton playing cards.”

Matt cocks his head to the side and satisfied there are no agents left in the corridor, he runs down the hall, keeping to the shade, briefly remembering glass is see through. It’s a bit late now to be worried. “Friday, please could you open the door to the elevator? I cannot sense the difference between the windows.” Part of the wall slides open, and Matt runs quicker and into the elevator. It starts moving on its own and down to the lab. Matt stands in the doorway, listening to the state of the room but finding it too soundproof to distinguish between smaller shapes. He clicks his fingers, and the sound bounces off every object, making them flicker in his imagination.

Glasses.

Three workbenches over, hanging up on a rack. “The lenses of the pair three to the right are red like your own glasses, if you are interested in the colour.” Matt takes the red ones. If they turned out to be purple, his incognito mission would be ruined with the attraction he would get from Clint.

“Thank you, Friday. I’m going to leave through the door, now.”

“Of course, Red. I will speak to you soon, I imagine.” Matt beams and walks out the door, scaling the side of the nearest building and making his way home. The file is where he left it, and with the glasses on, Friday jumps to life and begins reading the files to Matt.

Matt wears his third best suit, new glasses on, earpiece in, and holding his billy club cane in his hands as he tracks Brett’s car from streets down. “Hey Murdock.” He calls, pulling up. “Passenger side right in front of you. Three steps maybe.”

“Hi Brett.” His cane touches the car, and he fumbles for the handle, before climbing in. “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem. Might as well save the planet a little bit and car share, huh?” Matt nods and plugs in as Brett drives away, heading to Brooklyn.

“So, how’s Bess? Foggy’s not been too consistent with the cigarettes I hope?”

“Not too much, but sometimes I think he’s right. She’ll outlive us all.” Brett chuckles. “Does Foggy know it’s wrong to bribe cops?”

“I’m not sure, but he’ll probably get the message one day.” Brett nods, then tells Matt he did a second later. Matt smiles. “Mahoney, as much as I love small talk, perhaps you’d prefer to practice a game with me?”

“How do you practice a game?”

“Ah, well, you see, my friends turn out to be enthusiasts of the yellow car game.”

“I can see how that might be an issue.” Mahoney says. Matt nods. “I take it you plan on winning somehow. If you need practice?”

“Yeah. So, can we play?”

“Sure.” They sit in silence for a bit. Matt pays attention to Brett, listening to his resting state of being. “Yellow car.” He says. No change. Matt can hear people in a car a street down call yellow car.

“Yellow car?” He guesses, when a suitable time has passed. It’s a complete guess.

“Uh, sor- wait. There, yep. Yellow car.” Matt beams. Brett laughs. Now though, Brett’s expecting Matt to magically guess yellow cars, so when he sees one, his heart ticks slightly different before he voices it.

“Yellow car.” Matt says the fourth time Brett’s heart ticks, before he can say the words. Brett intakes a short breath.

“Yeah. Practice really helps, huh?” But there isn’t time for any more attempts of guesses as Brett pulls up and announces that they’re here. “Would you like me to help guide you or anything? You know, it’s stupid. I’ve known you for years and never offered to help.”

Matt smiles. “To be fair, I’m normally attached to Foggy. But no, I’m fine thank you. Perhaps you could walk on first, though?”

“Sure.” Brett locks the car and begins walking towards the building, Matt walking next to him. “So, you know anyone here?”

“I hope so. But don’t let me keep you from your cop buddies. I don’t think hanging out with a lawyer will do you much good.” Brett laughs.

“Ok, I’m going to go say ‘hi’ to a few people then. If I end up back at your side, don’t think I like you or anything Murdock. My social life is rather… stunted.” Matt laughs, and Brett’s heart speeds up a little. “Meet you out the front when it finishes otherwise?” He sounds happy. Matt guesses he’s smiling.

“Of course. Say ‘hi’ to your cop friends for me.”

“I’m sure they’ll love that.” Matt laughs again, and the man shakes his head and walks away into the crowd.

Matt breaths in. Crowds aren’t really his thing. They’re off putting and complicate his senses. But the formality of the party reminds him of his time with Elektra, and he hates to admit that kind of helps. It’s familiar in an unfamiliar kind of way. He begins making his way through the crowd of people, following the scent of alcohol to the bar.

“Hi sir, can I get you a drink?”

“Tequila, please.” He orders, flashing the woman at the bar a charming smile. It makes her heart flutter, and incites a conversation to last long enough for the doors to the mansion to close and for Nat to speak into her comm.

“Hi Red, I hope you’re in the building. I’ve heard there’s supposed to be some fantastic wine.” Matt makes a mental side note to get some wine later on. “We cannot hear you unless you actively enable your comm as to avoid any accidental identity reveals.”

“Hope that’s cool.” Clint adds, and Matt can hear Clint’s voice from the roof of the mansion. “If you’re not inside, and can hear us, enable it asap.” Matt continues his conversation with the woman, well-practiced at ignoring the excess voices, until the spies are satisfied. “Ok, the speech will start soon, you need to look for Johnathan Miller during it and pull him to the side afterwards.”

“We need as much information as you can get. Don’t screw it up Daredevil.”

“Nat’s just jealous you’re in there instead of her. Van duty isn’t fun.” Sure enough, the clinking of a spoon on a glass brings everyone into the hallway, where the man who owns the mansion- some high up government guy Matt can’t remember the name of, begins his speech thanking everybody here for their service to America. Matt can’t help but feel slightly in the wrong place, being a lawyer.

That worry doesn’t last long, as he soon addresses a group of lawyers here and jokes about the rivalry, getting polite snickers from both sides. “That guy is so boring.” Clint says.

“I can’t help but agree with Agent Barton.” Friday says from Matt’s glasses, speaking for the first time this evening. He huffs a little; Matt agrees with the pair of them. “I have finished facial recognition scans for everyone in the glasses line of sight with no match.” He turns slightly, to face several more people. “There are two possible matches for Johnathan Miller in this area.”

That doesn’t help Matt.

The speech soon ends, and Matt’s soon at a loss of what to do. “Hey Murdock.” Matt could kiss Brett. “Not sure if I should be seen with you. I swear his jokes were bordering on rude.”

“I kind of stopped listening if I’m completely honest.”

“Good.” Brett lets out an almost silent sigh of relief. Matt tilts his head in question. “You’d have thought society would have moved on, but that guy is an A grade asshat. Classist, racist, ableist, homophobic. All politely disguised with a bunch of jokes.”

“I’m sorry, Mahoney.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Matt shrugs. “You were the one listening. I’m looking for someone called Johnathon Miller. You know him?”

Brett exhales a humorous breath of air and nods. “Yeah, I know Miller. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“May I take your arm?”

“Sure.” Matt beams, and fumbles for Brett’s offered arm and walks alongside him to Miller. “Hey Miller.”

“Oh, hey Mahoney, and…”

“Matthew Murdock.” Matt holds out his hand and the guy shakes it.

“Murdock here’s a lawyer, you’ve met Franklin Nelson I believe. They’re law partners.”

“Red, you couldn’t have had a better fitting cover story to get you into this party. It’s a good job you ignored the cover provided for you, although I suggested otherwise.” Friday says. The corners of Matt’s lips turn up.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Murdock. Mr Nelson had plenty of good things to say about you.”

Matt laughs a little, and it comes out surprisingly naturally. “Oh, I doubt that. Though, it’s nice to hear.” Miller laughs.

“Best friends since college those two.” Mahoney says. “Couldn’t keep them apart, prove a problem for family dinners.” Matt flashes his signature shit-eating grin.

Him and Foggy have been nothing but trouble to Brett and permanently loved by Bess.

“Good job with your work with Fisk, by the way.” Miller says, and Matt smiles. “The precincts were really struggling under the influence, especially with the FBI being dirty.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t the best time to be on the wanted list.” Matt jokes, loosely.

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Lie. “I can’t help but feel personally responsible, with it being my job to enforce searches and all.” Somewhat true.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware the local precincts were on the job too.”

Brett laughs awkwardly next to Matt. “Yeah Murdock, a lot of us were on the job. Myself excluded… unfortunately, due to my uncanny habit to run into vigilantes, masked or otherwise.” It’s a joke, mostly, Matt decides. He smiles.

“That must have limited resources you didn’t have. I’m sorry for that.”

“Not you’re fault.” True. “But yeah, the excess amount of crime was certainly starting to become a problem. Made it hard for us to cope under the strain, but hopefully New York is slowly returning to its original rate.” Lies. Matt notices Brett’s heart spike, and wonders if he picked up on a tell as well.

“I figure it must be; a lot of firms like ours are having fewer new clients each day. As much as I like to make a living, it’s comforting, knowing that less people need a defence lawyer.”

“Well, I hope our good police work doesn’t put you out of business, Murdock. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to greet some other colleagues.”

“Of course. It was nice meeting you, Mr Miller.”

“And you. Until next time, Brett.” Neither Matt nor Brett say anything whilst the man walks away. Matt starts thinking Nat and Clint have been suspiciously quiet, and he focuses on the roof. Clint’s not there. There’s no blood, but there is the smell of…

“You ok Murdock?” Brett clicks his fingers in front of Matt’s face. He snaps his head back into an upright position.

“Yes, uh, sorry.” Spy work is harder when your partner doesn’t know you’re busy being a spy. But then, along with the smell of chloroform there’s also the smell of pizza. Upon realising it isn’t Clint whose been kidnapped, Matt relaxes a little. “Do you know where the bathroom?”

Brett pauses. “Yeah, this way.” He leads him upstairs and into a bedroom, not bathroom. Brett shuts the door behind them.

“I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be in here with me?” Matt asks, because to him it’s a bathroom.

“Are you ok? That probably wasn’t how you wanted the conversation to go.” Why does Brett have to be nice?

Matt nods. It went a lot better than it could have done. In the room next door, there’s a desk. The desk drawer locked, filled with papers written with invisible ink? It smells weird. “Do people still write with invisible ink?” The words escape his mouth before he can stop them.

“Foggy’s mini cousins do.” Brett gives as way as an answer. From spy films Matt remembers as a kid, the invisible ink is definitely setting off alarm bells. “I can take a hint Murdock. The toilet’s three doors down to the right. I’ll meet you outside at the end of the night.” Brett leaves him in the room. Matt tracks him down to the party and turns on his comm.

“Nat?”

“Red. Where the hell are you?”

“At the party. Clint’s left his post.”

“I ordered Pizza. You never checked into the party, we assumed you’d bailed.”

Matt leaves the bedroom and tries the office door. Also locked. He takes out a paperclip, yes, he bought paperclips, and clicks his fingers by the door to get a flickering image of the lock before unlocking it. “I didn’t like your identity, so I made my own. There’re traces of chloroform on the roof where Clint was. Why?”

“I don’t know.” Great.

“Ok.” Matt unlocks the desk drawer, but when he pulls it open, the smell is a lot stronger. It’s not invisible ink, well it might be, but… it’s toxic. He pulls out the drawer further and looks over the writing. “Friday?”

“I’m sorry Red, there is no visible information on these papers.”

“You invited Friday?!” Clint exclaims, and Nat laughs. “Ok, we’re back in the van driving to the house. Have you found anything?”

“Your file said Miller didn’t want to stop crime.”

Nat scoffs. “You really know how to undermine government documents.” Matt smirks; it’s a talent. “You don’t think that’s the case?”

“No. He’s gradually decreasing crime so it’s practically non-existent, making the decline look as natural as possible.”

“That’s a good thing? You’re always stopping crime.” Clint says.

“He’s planning to put all the law firms under.”

“No prosecution, no defence. Keeps all the criminals on the streets and allows them to operate under the radar.” Nat figures and Matt hums. “What evidence have you got?”

“Nothing.”

“If Friday’s there, she will have a record of the conversation.”

“It was a reading between the line kind of situation.” Plus being a human polygraph kind of helps. “I’m searching the house now. There’s some…” Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.

“What’s that?”

“Sounds like an alarm, or a phone, maybe. Someone’s coming.” He turns off the comm and answers his phone. Nobody’s coming. “Hey Fogs.”

“Hey Buddy, Brett rang me. Said he was worried and there was a conversation about the Fisk Fiasco?”

“No, about the FBI Farce.” Foggy makes a clicking noise with his tongue in understanding. “I’m ok, though, just needed a minute.”

“He says you haven’t come back down yet.”

“You’re on the phone to him too?”

“Hey Murdock.”

“Mahoney. My phone did not tell me you were here too.” Clint and Nat’s van pulls up a few streets over, and Clint gets out, starting up a fire escape. There’s the smell of a… gun. A gun being assembled. There’s a sniper on a roof waiting for Clint. Shit. “Wait one minute.” He removes the phone from his ear and turns on his Comm. “Clint, do not return to your post.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t stop.

“Sniper.”

“Did I hear the word sniper?” Brett asks from the phone. Matt thinks he should have hung up.

“Brett, you’re going to hate me.”

“Dirty cops?” He asks, and Matt hums. “Yeah, I figured. You were playing Miller weren’t you. What’s your business here Murdock?”

“At the moment, talking to you. Brett, do you have any gloves?”

“I’m coming up.” He hangs up the call. Matt pockets his phone and returns his attention to Clint. “Clint, to you’re right is an adjacent rooftop, two stories higher than what you’re on now. Get up there.”

“How do you… mind reading. Friday; add mind reading to the betting pool. Ten dollars.”

“Not the time, Clint.” Nat says. “I’ve got you on visual up there. Take cover behind the raised wall around the edge of the roof. Don’t move until Daredevil’s command. You’re taking lead of this mission; I apologise for letting it go south.”

“I’ve got a clean cop involved now; he’s coming up the stairs. He doesn’t know anything except the fact the precincts have been compromised. Officer Brett Mahoney.”

“Your favourite cop.” Clint nods to himself on the roof.

“Luck he was here. I’m turning you off comms. Five minutes.”

“You’re on a countdown.” He turns it off and Mahoney comes through the door.

“The hell Murdock?” Matt bites his tongue. Brett walks over and looks at the blank papers in the desk drawer. “Invisible ink? How did you know? Also, what are you even doing in here? Or at this party?”

“I’ve got these new glasses.” Matt points to them. “You won’t like where I got them, but they are very skilled in the guiding apartment.”

“You flatter me, Red.” Friday jokes.

“I’m sure the visual effects are a lot better, but the audio description is brilliant. Here.” Matt shuts his eyes and hands them over to try them on.

“Shit.” Matt laughs. Brett hands them back over.

“Karen’s investigating is very thorough, but sometimes she needs a second pair of hands. She helps me, I help her." He lies easily. It's devastating. "I was going to take the papers but they’re poisonous. We can’t touch them.” Brett nudges a pair of latex gloves against Matt’s hands.

“This is theft, Murdock.” Matt hums. “There’s a torch in the drawer, hang on.” Brett takes out the light and shines it over the paper. “Jackpot.”

“I can scan the papers and send the copies to Agent Romanoff.” Matt takes off the glasses and holds them closer to the paper, letting them do their work.

Brett sensibly doesn’t comment.

Matt scans the surroundings and there’s nothing else that screams important. “Do you see anything worthwhile?” Matt asks Brett, just in case.

“No. But it’s not just the precincts, it’s the FBI, the CIA. Everything, Matt. It’s not many Agents, apparently, but it’s enough to start a landslide. What case have you three idiots got yourself wrapped up in this time?” Matt returns the papers do the drawer, locks it, and they leave the office, locking that too. Steps are headed their way. Matt turns on his comm.

“I’ve got the files. I assume you’re not alone, so you don’t have to answer. But a sniper means somebody knew we were coming. Who? Why?”

“Brett, did the files mention any corrupt vigilantes?”

“Aren’t they all corrupt?” Matt nods, smirking. They pass the person; they just went into the toilet. Brett lets out a sigh of relief.

“What about the Avengers? X-Men? The other group with the stretchy man.”

“Reed Richards.” Matt knows. They very much do not get on.

“No… there were references to the Tracksuit Mafia, though. That’s the only criminal group listed.”

“Do you ever just realise how much you hate someone?”

“I just did.” Nat growls down the comm. “Clint, get your ass back here. Thanks for the good work, Daredevil.”

“Constantly.” Brett answers, implying him and Foggy. Matt throws his head back with a laugh.

“Ok, we’ll be in contact. The sniper is no threat, we’ll clear up that mess. We’ll be in contact. Enjoy the party.”

“Bye Red! Are we still on for Thursday?”

“He can’t answer Clint. And to think you ever made a good spy.” The comms unit is cut off.

Brett leads Matt to the door, and the cold air hits him hard when it opens. “Yeah, don’t think I’m staying here any longer, Murdock.”

“I did overhear that the wine was superb.” He tries, but Mahoney’s not having it and pulls Matt out the door. Matt laughs. “Thank you for helping tonight, officer.”

Brett stops and stares Murdock straight on. “We are never speaking about this. Not even to Fogs, please- he’ll tell my mom.” Matt laughs even harder, and Brett joins in this time.

“Between racist party throwers, the FBI farse reference, corrupt governments and slightly illegal activity, I think that’s wise.” It’s not illegal for Matt, Mahoney however could get in serious trouble.

Brett draws in a short breath of air, and Matt cocks his head.

“Yellow car.”

He’s not wrong.


End file.
